


Burst Bubbles

by Bobbie23



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s07e13 Grace, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24760474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobbie23/pseuds/Bobbie23
Summary: Not entirely sure I like this...
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 34
Kudos: 65





	Burst Bubbles

_“Teal'c and Daniel say Hi. They're planning a little bit of a shindig for when you're up and around…There's talk of cake.”_

_“Cake?”_

_“My idea…”_

A huge, chocolate monstrosity with chocolate frosting and sprinkles; that’s the cake Jack chooses for Carter’s shindig. Teal’c and Daniel sprung her from the infirmary while he headed to the good bakery near her house which makes a mean pie.

Now, a few hours later, Jack thinks it’s criminal to be boxing up just under half of the cake as he does just that, leaving it in the middle of Carter’s breakfast bar for her to store it wherever she wants. Carter will have cake for days. Or at least some to share with Cassie and the Doc when they drop by for dinner tomorrow.

He starts clearing the beer bottles and soda cans to the recycling. He can hear Daniel still nattering away at the front door as Carter sees him and Teal’c out. He’s explaining something and Jack can hear Carter use the humouring tone she uses with himself on occasion. Jack smirks as Daniel, with one too many beers in him, can’t recognise it to call her on it. She wouldn’t be using it if he were sober.

Jack is curious about their conversation, bordering on a lecture, about the readings of some tablet Daniel has been working on but decides Carter and Teal’c are more than capable of dealing with a tipsy Daniel. He carries on with his task of cleaning Carter’s living space so she doesn’t have to worry about it when she’s supposed to be resting.

He can almost hear her self-conscious apology and mumbled ‘Thanks Sir’ she’ll say when she returns from the front door while explaining that he needn’t have bothered. They aren’t exactly messy but they all ate and drank. Besides, she’d never leave the clean up all to him if they were at his house, so it shouldn’t be any different here. That being said, it feels kind of domestic when he reaches under her sink for the spray to use on the counter. He sighs as he sprays a light mist over the cleared surfaces as his mind drifts to his Major.

He’s fully aware that he’s lingering. He could’ve, and probably should’ve, bailed with the guys but something holds him in place. Carter doesn’t seem right yet, despite the Doc releasing her. Frasier was satisfied that Carter’s fluids had returned to normal and the lingering headache from her concussion would pass soon as long she rested. He checked personally with Frasier before Carter was released, he actively avoided the infirmary since Carter woke up and whispered his name.

_‘Jack…’_

Prometheus was a close call for her. Initially, he justified her slip down to the anaesthetic. Yet as hours ticked by, he came to the slow realisation it wasn’t. It was unguarded and honest. He struggled to comprehend it. Hell, he was still trying to rein in the desperation he felt when she was missing. He reluctantly called her on it out of preservation than anything else, to alert her to their surroundings. After that, he just couldn’t go back, couldn’t check her while he went unchecked.

They’ve been good for months. Very little tension, joking, smiles, lunch and cake. Smiling. A few weeks ago, he said goodbye to her before going after Daniel and then invited her to lunch when they were reunited. It’d almost been like before the za’tarcs.

Almost.

Okay, yeah, they were flirting with the line again.

Too blinkered to admit they let themselves become complacent. That bubble is well and truly burst.

He shakes his head; he didn’t like abandoning her only he needed time to figure it out. He’s usually first in line to bust any of them from the infirmary or at least smuggle things in to curb boredom. He always checks on their recovery, he just did it at a safe distance this time only to be drawn back in this afternoon as she huddled into the corner of her couch with a couple of blankets as she picked at her slice of cake and sipped her soda as Daniel carried the conversation.

There was a slight sag in her shoulders and it was clear the headache she won’t admit she has still bothered her. Jack watched her track the conversation, only contributing when she had to. She hid it well. To an outsider, she would look like she was a good listener instead of assessing the three men she should be able to trust with her life. Teal’c clocked it when he did. Jack isn’t so sure about Daniel; he’s good at deciphering some long lost dialogue, but body language takes him a minute.

He hears the click of the door and figures Teal’c finally managed to lead Daniel to the car. He hears Carter pause by her bedroom. Moments later she walks through the door, pulling a sweater over her waist. One foot in the door, she stops to look around before settling her gaze on him.

“Thank you, Sir, you really didn’t have to,” she gives him that small, genuine smile of hers.

He should have made a bet on her reaction except he doesn’t know what he’d wager against himself.

“You’ve done the same for me, Carter,” Jack reminds her. Her smile is a tad short for her real one. He should make his excuses and leave.

“You want another piece?” Sam asks brightly moving towards the cake box on her counter. “I’m never going to be able to finish this by myself.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, he eyes her like the time she asked for diet soda instead of regular. She flushes like that time too. Rolling her eyes, she relents, “Well, I could but I would have to blame you for the extra pounds at my next physical.”

“Aaah, don’t sic the Doc on me, Carter,” Jack grumbles as she flashes him a smile, while he takes a plate from the rack on the draining board and wipes it with the tea towel in his hand. “We’ll share,” he says placing the plate between them on the counter. “Frasier will be after my hide if I put any pounds on too.”

Sam slices them a piece as he grabs them each a fork. They stand either side of her breakfast bar, contemplating the wedge of cake between them. Jack nudges the plate toward her, urging her to “Dig in, Carter.”

She cuts into it with her fork and pops the bite into her mouth, groaning in appreciation as the sweet, creamy frosting hits her tongue. “It’s really good cake,” she mumbles when he stares at her without making a move to take his own bite.

“I told ya, Carter.” With his eyes trained on her, she nudges the plate towards him to break his spell. His gaze drops with a nod and picks up his fork. “Cake always works.”

“What if I need more than cake?” She mumbles under her breath.

“Then, I’d say it’s serious,” he answers carefully, watching her.

She stabs the cake with his fork, popping the bite in her mouth. She chews thoughtfully before swallowing. “Have you ever had hallucinations which felt so real you get confused when you wake up?”

“Yeah.” Hallucinations, dreams, nightmares. He pokes the corner of the slice with his fork, his appetite abandoning him. “That happened to you on the ship?”

She nods thoughtfully. “You all showed up to give me your own pep talks.”

He perks up at that. “Good talk?”

She humours him with a smile, emitting half a giggle, “Yes, Sir.”

She sobers when she pulls her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes catch his and hold. After a beat she shakes her head and breaks contact, releasing a husky sigh, “It felt so real.”

He itches to say something to stop this conversation before it careens to a place neither can save it from. Her breathy _‘Jack’_ echoes in his head again. He wonders if her hallucination took the same turn as some of his fantasies have over the years.

“Is that why you were studying us this afternoon like we were a bunch of your quarks, Carter?”

She looks abashed for being called out yet doesn’t deny it.

“Were you right?” Sam cants her head to the side, silently willing him to clarify. “About us?” The question falls out before he can stop it. He knows it’s the wrong way to phrase it when she blinks rapidly, rearing back from the counter slightly. “About what we would say?”

“Yeah, mostly,” she swallows, awkwardly nodding. “I think I knew that before this afternoon.”

“You did?”

Sam bobs her head. “Yeah, pretty obvious when I woke.” Her voice is small and more hesitant than he’s ever heard it as she refuses to meet his gaze. “I called you Jack and you corrected me.”

“Ah,” Jack acknowledges softly, looking down at the counter. He’s at a loss at what to say or how to comfort her. “Carter, I…we were in the infirmary.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, I just, uh, I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” she apologises, pushing away from the table to look through her window. She folds her arms across her chest to compose herself. He glances at her and tries to ignore her glossy eyes. He roots himself to the spot because if he closes the distance between them, this is all over. “Sometimes I think this is all in my head, that it’s just me, and then there are times when I know it’s-.”

“It’s not,” Jack tells her, surprising both of them. Her head snap is as sharp as her intake of breath. “It’s not just you.”

“Really?” The doubt and cautious hope jab him in the stomach. They’ve gotten too good at hiding this from each other.

“Yeah,” Jack tells her. He felt useless when she was missing. She’s saved their collective asses so many times, they couldn’t return the favour. All they could do was wait. There was no one for Daniel to negotiate with, no extraction to plan, nothing for T to blast.

Sam closes her eyes. They’ve been through the wringer. She’s recovering. He’s exhausted. They’re not thinking clearly, probably why they’re having this conversation in the first place. She had one hell of a concussion, she doesn’t need to deal with him losing his mind while she was missing. He’s still reeling, as dazed and confused as she is.

Despite not being able to act on his feelings, he’s never denied caring about her and he’s not going to start now. He’s screwed if he says something, screwed any potential future with Sam if he doesn’t, so he figures he might as well be honest.

Jack moves closer, unable to stop himself. He feels like he’s only got one half of this conversation which she is convinced he was a part of. “What did I say?”

“Huh?” She looks surprised to find him closer.

“What did we talk about on the Prometheus?” Jack prompts. “Something isn’t sitting right with you, Carter, and if it’s something I said...” Sam cocks her head at him. He points at himself, “Not me, me. The one…you know what I mean.”

She nods sadly, contemplating. “You told me you’ll always be there for me.”

She was right; that’s exactly what he’d say. Coming from her, though, that doesn’t sound like a good thing. Apparently, his lack of reaction is a cue for her to continue talking. “Sometimes, I think I need to hear this would never work,” Sam breathes out.

Take away all regulations and circumstances, they work. Even on day one, he recognised something in her, something he tried to ignore. A spark beyond the one in her eyes as she challenged him to an arm wrestle. Of course, she’s intelligent and beautiful. It’s more than that. He’s as attracted to her wonder of discovering something new or figuring out an equation she’s been working on all afternoon or how animated she gets when she explains them. They balance each other out. Sometimes it feels like she has more faith in him than he’s ever had. She sees beyond his jokes, his self-depreciation, and his ghosts. She sees him.

“That’s the one thing I’ve never doubted,” Jack tells her. His feet move without permission, stopping when he’s standing behind her.

Sam turns slowly, refusing to meet his eyes. ”You said you’re a safe bet.”

Jack’s always going to be there for her. He’s always going to care. Yet, the consequences of just having this conversation are enough to make him the worst bet she’s ever made.

“Say something.” Her voice cracks as her tongue darts out along her lower lip. “Tell me I’m wrong…Tell me…” Sam pleads with him as his hands cup her face gently to calm her.

“I can’t, Sam,” Jack mutters, his lips against her forehead. “I wish I could make this easier but I can’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely sure I like this...


End file.
